


On the Nature of Pie

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Pre-Slash, Sam Winchester is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: Very few things turned out good for them. Even for normal people, random pie findings weren't the norm. Sam was at least sure of that. Usually.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	On the Nature of Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This is one that has been up for some time on FFN that I've been meaning to cross-post over here but kept forgetting. The time period is nebulous and thanks for reading! :)

* * *

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Man, how can pie give you a bad feeling?”

“Dean, it’s a pie that mysteriously appeared on the driver’s seat while we were inside eating.”

His brother made a disbelieving noise as the door opened with its signature creak and Sam so didn’t fist his hands against his jeans. Nope, he was not nervous at all and he was just driving his fingernails into his palms to keep focus. The wind was picking up, hair whipping into his face almost masking the form of his brother lifting out the box. He clenched his fists more, nails not quite sharp enough to really break skin yet. It wasn’t like he thought the open box could be a bomb or a trap.

Or just poisoned.

“Apple,” Dean declared, way too excited, and Sam wanted to ask him if he forgot one of the cardinal rules of hunting – don’t eat random crap you just find. Not that it mattered, as Dean sniffed the pie a bit. “Smells good, fresh.”

Sam decided the only thing left was to stare up into the gray, storm saturated sky because experience had taught him that his brother would never stop when it came to pie. Thoughts of tackling Dean, sprawling him out on the gravel with the pie landing face down with a satisfying sound of ruination danced happily in his head.

“Dude, who likes us enough to sneak us pie?”

A slightly flummoxed look crossed his brother’s face, some little crease in his delight over free food appearing with ease of service. Sam patted himself on the back for at least stalling the inevitable crap fest that was to follow because they didn’t get good things.

Ever.

“Cas. Cas would give us a pie,” his brother crowed, looking way too smug over that, and yeah, Sam had to admit that was a possibility. “Hey Cas, man, did you leave pie?”

The wind sighed, picking up steam as the forbearer of the coming storm as nothing else happened. Sam knew this had to be a terrible thing. A no-good present that was probably cursed and would turn them into apples or something. Or pie desperately trying not to be eaten and Bobby would be so pissed.

Again.

“Yes.”

That voice was just from nowhere and Sam couldn’t stop the little squeak he made as Dean juggled the box precariously before dragging it back into the safety of his palms. Heart frantic and in his throat, he jammed his hands into his jean pockets to keep from fidgeting, sending a glare to match his brother’s.

The rumpled angel now with them, trench coat snapping about like an abused cape, looked unflappable with his serene expression and hair pushed into even more strange and unwieldy angles. Though there did seem to be an overly intense focus on that box going on, even in Castiel terms which said a lot. Sam was sure the angel did not know the meaning of ‘relaxed’ even if he insisted that he understood the whole dictionary.

“Do you have to do that?” Dean hissed, a sound close to an angry cat, and Sam smiled slightly.

“Have you tried it?”

Leave it to Cas to just skip all the important questions of why, and how, and why.

“Sure, hang on, need a fork or something…“ Dean trailed off as the angel held out what Sam presumed was some clean eating utensil and he tried not to sigh at the two of them. “That works.”

Everything was so quiet, like they were out in the middle of the frozen tundra and not, as they were, standing in the parking lot of a rundown diner whose patrons only gave them glances. Probably watching people eat whole pies was pretty blasé here given the neighborhood. Sam was fairly certain something had been on fire recently nearby, smoke smell all caught up in his nose still.

He didn’t like being around places that had been on fire recently when he didn’t know what caused it.

“This is really good, Cas,” his brother was saying around mouthfuls like the cow he was. “Where’d you get it?”

“I made it.”

The way he said that, like it was the hardest thing in his eternal celestial life made Sam roll his eyes and beg God for mercy from their, well, whatever this was.

He’d bet if God was here, He’d roll His eyes too.

“Really, really good. You just made a pie?”

“You deserve good things.”

Dean sputtered a little and shook his head. “Here, did you even try it?”

A shake, something so small that it would be missed if Sam hadn’t gotten used to reading angel, and Dean was preparing a large forkful to press towards the angel’s mouth.

That was it, Sam decided, and opened the passenger door, shoving his bulk into the front seat before slamming the door behind him, meaningfully. He so didn’t need this. If his brother and the angel had a thing then so be it, but he didn’t need to know just how much of a third wheel he was. Didn’t help everything he did was bad. Like if someone had left him a pie it would have had terrible consequences and probably ended the world.

Dean just got to eat it.

He fumed, sulking down, rubbing his cold hands almost raw with their dry skin not wanting to listen to whatever else the two said. He wanted to remind his brother that they needed to get moving, that there were people in danger and towns to save and he wasn’t jealous or upset because he was alone.

No, that wasn’t it. Just, there were some things that he shouldn’t have to see.

Sam kept twisting his fingers together or picking at his jeans, not looking over, letting the rush of annoyance fill his ears instead of their voices when Dean got into the car. Freakin’ finally.

“Sam.”

“We got to go, Dean. Remember the whole banshee case we’re supposed to be going to?”

He was resolutely staring out the window. The clouds looked so bloated that their dark underbellies might start falling from the sky soon if the rain refused to come.

“He brought you a fork, too.”

Sam managed to chance a look over, Dean all sheepish and something he couldn’t quite place but thought it might be annoyance. In his brother’s hand was a clean fork, Dean pushing the pie towards him that now had a sizable chunk eaten out of it.

Dean didn’t share pie. Well, only with one creature and that wasn’t Sam. He shook his head and that look deepened.

“Just eat, you big baby.”

He took the tin and stared at it as his brother started the car, muttering something that wasn’t quite clear enough to be caught. Hesitant, he took a bit because he was still certain at times that just his brother touching something didn’t automatically make him not cursed.

It was good, really good, and he saw Dean grin, pulling the car out onto the main drag, as the rain began to fall.


End file.
